Daddy's Duty
by Sianatra
Summary: I had to admit, my wife's timing was impeccable. Rose would have to learn about sex eventually, whether I liked it or not. I just prayed that the fateful day wouldn't come too soon. A cute series of fatherly one-shots, please r&r!
1. Chapter 1

**Rose, Age 4**

"Daddy, daddy!" my four-year old daughter shrieked, hurtling into my office in an ecstatic frenzy. "I lost my twooth!" Rose thrust her tiny hand out and stuck it in front of my face, her bright blue eyes alight with fervent excitement, and her ludicrously bushy orange hair sticking out in a state of general disarray.

I glanced up from my paperwork, sighing. Lying in the palm of her hand was a miniscule anterior tooth, shining dully in the dim light.

Rose looked at me eagerly. "Are you proud of me, Daddy?"

"Extremely," I affirmed mechanically, returning to my paperwork. "Great job, sweetie. Wonderful. Super. Fantastic."

Rose beamed at me, and before I could so much as let out an exclamation of protest, she had clambered onto my lap and snuggled against my chest contentedly. "I'm glad you think so," she mumbled. "'Cause I'm pretty proud of myself too."

I patted her on the back awkwardly. "Yeah, that's brilliant. But can you go help Mommy in the kitchen? Daddy has some work to do right now."

She turned around and looked at me dolefully. "I wanted you to tell me a story," she pouted, her lower lip protruding to an extreme point. "You _never_ tell me stories anymore. Tell me one right _now_."

"Okay, here goes. Once upon a time there was a little girl named Rose. She lost her tooth, but her Daddy had work to do, so she had to go help her Mommy in the kitchen. The End."

Rose walloped me over the head."That's not a good story," she protested. "It was too short. You're not fun anymore. Know what you need? You need sex."

My biting retort immediately died in my throat, and for a moment, I could hardly breathe. _How in the bloody _world_ did Rose find out about sex? Did someone tell her? That's supposed to be my job! Heck, she's only four! Who could have possibly told her?_

Clearing my throat, I tried to keep my tone light, but I was sure that some of my uncertainty bled through. "Where'd you hear that honey?" I asked tentatively.

"Teddy," said Rose happily, glad she had finally gotten my attention. "He said that sex is really, really fun and that it makes you really, really happy. What is sex anyways?" She cocked her head to the side inquisitively. "Is it a game?"

"Well…" I began hesitantly. "Sex is much more than a game, honey. In fact, sex is what two people do when – "

"ROSE!" Hermione called. "Come help me in the kitchen, sweetheart! I'm making a special cake to celebrate losing your first tooth! It's your favorite – chocolate on chocolate!"

Rose squealed and kissed me on the cheek, then bounded out of the room, all inquiring thoughts lost to the prospect of a yummy cake.

I had to admit, my wife's timing was impeccable. Rose would have to learn about sex one day, whether I liked it or not.

But I just prayed that the day wouldn't come too soon.

In the meantime, I thought I should probably go murder Teddy before he let anything else 'slip.'

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**Please review if you liked it; I'm thinking of continuing, but with different ages each time! Should I do that? :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Rose, Age 7**

"Ehmygawd!" A shriek came from the upper floor of our two-story house. "Ehmygawd, dad, you've _got _to see this! It's, like, awesome!"

I quirked an eyebrow, wondering what could have possibly caused my daughter to respond with such an outburst.

I got my answer rather quickly, as it turned out.

Rose came flying down the banister of the staircase, her wild red hair streaming behind her. "Ehmygawd, ehmygawd, ehmygawd!" she shrieked once again, jumping off the banister and skidding towards me in her rainbow colored toe-socks. I caught her before she fell, and she gave me a lopsided, bucktoothed smile. "Thanks, Dad," she said breathlessly. "You, like, saved me. And this." She held out her small little palm, where a tiny, fragile-looking white egg rested. "I found it in Shrek and Fiona's cage like, just now."

Shrek and Fiona were her parakeets, both green and both extremely annoying in my opinion. They squawked all night long, but Rose seemed to love them, so Hermione and I had granted her the small pleasure of allowing them under our roof. However, as I looked down at the tiny egg in my daughter's hand, I realized that I should have gotten rid of them long ago. We'd have a parakeet farm on our hands if we weren't careful.

Rose frowned. "Like, what is it, Daddy?"

She looked up at me with those pretty little eyes, those soft, sweet eyes just like her mother's, and something inside me forced me to respond.

"It's an egg, sweetie."

"What's an egg?"

Her innocence and naivety struck me like a bullet.

"Honey, an egg is something that a baby bird grows inside. When the egg cracks open, the baby bird will be ready to come out."

Her eyes got huge. "So you're saying there's, like, a _bird_? In _here_? In, like, this itsy bitsy little _egg_?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to smile at her amazement. "It's a bird. And soon it will hatch, and Shrek and Fiona will have a new buddy to play with."

Her brow furrowed for a moment. "But wait," she said, trying to absorb all this new information at once. "Where… where did it come from?"

_Oh God. The one question I wasn't willing to answer just yet._

"Daddy?" She peered at me through her lashes. "How did it get in the cage?"

I looked at her sadly, taking in her frizzed hair, her sparkling blue eyes, her well-worn rainbow toe-socks. She looked so young, but so _wise_, standing there in front of me and holding the egg in her hands, and suddenly, I decided that I would tell her. Rose was seven; she was old enough to understand. She was smart for her age. So I began to talk.

"Baby, the egg got in the cage because Shrek and Fiona –"

"WAIT!"

Her sudden yelp seemed to surprise both me and her, because she took a quick step backwards.

"Sorry," she muttered quietly, gazing at the egg as if she had never seen anything more interesting in her life. "I just… I thought I, like, felt something."

We both stared at the egg for a few moments, her holding her breath in anticipation, me exhaling in relief. I had gotten off the hook. At least momentarily. But sure enough, Rose had been right. A small, fine crack was beginning to appear on the shell of the egg.

She looked at me, excitement burning in her eyes. "Ehmygawd, you were right, Dad," she whispered in wonder. "It really _is_ a baby bird."

We watched in anticipation for a few moments as first the beak appeared, then the head, then the little body. The shell crumbled in Rose's hand and a small pair of feet poked out of the debris. The bird stood up on trembling, fragile legs and looked at Rose with curious eyes.

Rose looked like she had just died on the spot. "IT'S A BABY BIRD!" she screamed. "LIKE, A REAL BIRD!" She whirled on me. "What should I name it?"

"Donkey?" I suggested sarcastically.

I had forgotten how naive my daughter was. "That's perfect!" she cajoled. She started cooing at the new addition to our family. "My, you're just a pretty baby, aren't you? A pretty, pretty baby bird. Pretty baby Donkey. Do you want to meet Shrek and Fiona, Donkey? They're so nice, and look at you, you're so nice too!" She glanced up at me. "I'm going to show Donkey to Shrek and Fiona. Is that okay?"

I nodded, and she beamed. "Okay, Dad, thanks. I'll see you, like, later, oaky?"

"Okay, sweetie. Have fun."

She turned and bounded up the stairs, making sure to keep Donkey cupped safely in her hands.

When she disappeared into her room, I collapsed down into the nearest armchair, dragging a hand across my face. It had been close, really close this time, but I was saved just before I had to say anything of importance.

I really couldn't let it wait much longer, though.

My baby bird was starting to grow up, whether I liked it or not.

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**a/n.** Review please? Tell me what you think(:

xoxo,  
-Sianatra


	3. Chapter 3

Super Easy Xylophones™

**Rose, Age 8**:  
"Father, I don't believe you comprehend the meaning of the word 'alone.' I was merely asking you to stay out of my room while I was reading this book, yet here you are in front of me, gaping like a goldfish that hasn't been fed for an indiscernible period of time. Perhaps you misunderstood me. I shall rephrase. I do not wish to be in the presence of your company whilst I am pondering over the contents of this rather fascinating novel. I do not wish to be disturbed, nor do I wish to do anything other than read at this present moment in time. Be a good man and leave me to my amusement, will you?"

The words that sounded like they should be spewed from the mouth a Harvard scholar were actually coming from the lips of my daughter. She'd taken up the classics recently, and had come into full inheritance of her mother's cognitive genes. Jane Austen was one of her new favorite authors. We had all become effectively bored by her long, rambling tangents at the breakfast table as she animatedly described Mr. Darcy, fawning over him like he was made of gold or something, using long and complicated words, some of which I'd never heard before in my life. The new vocabulary was as much of a shock as anything else. Half the time, I could hardly understand what she was saying, so it was a good thing Hermione's linguistic communication skills exceeded hers, otherwise, we would have had quite the situation on our hands.

"Father, pray tell me why you have yet to leave the room."

I was shaken out of my silent reverie. "Well, Rosie, I was just about to call you down for dinner," I said, trying to sound slightly enthusiastic. "We're having Sheppard's Pie, your favorite!"

She mumbled something under her breath that sounded like "ghastly cholesterolic treat"; however, she may have been saying something more along the lines of "yummy and delicious meat." I was uncertain, however, seeing as she had been behaving rather pessimistically as of late. I wouldn't put it past her to raise her righteous nose and scoff at what she had once considered a delicious meal.

"Rose." My voice was more stern now. "Put down the book and come eat dinner. The family is waiting."

She heaved an exquisite sigh. "As your daughter, I understand that I have certain obligations to uphold, however, dinner is not one of them, especially not when that dinner happens to be such a common meal. I lunched on saltines, and I feel perfectly satisfied now. It is not decent of you to coerce me from my present state of happy being."

I plucked the book from her hands and winced as she let out an ear-piercing shriek. "As your father," I said warningly, pulling the book out of her reach, "it is not decent of _you_ to be behaving in such an immature manner. Dinnertime is important to our family, you know that. And yet you want to skip it. For what? What could possibly be so important that you would want to miss out on the most delicious meal of the day?" I examined the cover of the book she had just been reading. On it, a gorgeous, tanned girl lay resting on a surfboard in the middle of the ocean, her bikini just barely covering her private areas. The image was meant to be sensual. She stared out from her frozen spot on the page, her eyes narrowed and lustful. I glanced at the title. _Love in Laguna_. My heart began beating a little faster. "Where did you get this, Rose?" I asked slowly.

"Well, yours and Mom's room of course. You neglected to take me to the library this afternoon, so it was only obvious that I had to find _something_ in this wretched house to read."

Already, I was beginning to remember. I had bought the book for Hermione for our first Christmas together, meaning it to be a kind of gag gift. She'd smirked when she opened it, then the book had been placed on the shelf in our room, never to be opened. However, through all the years, she had kept it as a kind of memorabilia, a tribute to the first holiday we shared together. Of course, she never read it. One glance at the title and just about anyone could assume it was a cheesy romance tale. Rose, however, did not understand this quite yet. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on my forehead. I was beginning to recollect the plot of the book. _A striking teenager named Anabelle takes a trip to Laguna Beach over the summer, but she ends up catching more boys than waves. Under the bright California sun, the men fall at her feet in the sand, slaves of her beauty, and all of a sudden, every desire she's ever had is coming true…_

"So… eh… how's the book so far?" I asked hoarsely, trying to contain my panic. "Any good parts?"

"Well, yes actually," said Rose, brightening considerably. She leaned back against the wall. "Annabelle is a remarkably seductive character. Though the book is poorly written, the author did manage to get that straight. My favorite part was when she kissed a boy she'd only just met. It was quite humorous."

I cleared my throat. "Any… any words you didn't know, Rosie?"

"No. I think I knew every word." But then she frowned, considering. "Well, as a matter of fact, I do believe there was _one_ word I couldn't quite understand from context. It started with an s. What was it again…? Sec? Sev? Se – "

"–x?" I finished reluctantly.

"Yes, that was it," she said, looking immensely relieved. "She was talking about how much she wanted sex in one chapter. It's seemed like something very desirable. She absolutely raved about it."

"Honey…" I said, frantically searching my mind for a way around this situation. I couldn't let Rose have any ideas going into that head of hers. I felt like such a bad parent for allowing her mind to be filled with such trash. Suddenly, an answer came to me, in a most brilliant flash of inspiration.

"Honey," I said, my voice more collected. "Sex isn't a word, it's an acronym. It stands for… Super Easy Xylophones. Yeah," I said, growing more confident. "it does." The fabrication was becoming much easier now. "It's a company in England that makes really easy-to-play xylophones. In the story, Annabelle must be wanting a xylophone. They are very cool, you know. I got to play one once, and it was a thrilling experience."

Rose crossed her arms. It didn't seem like she believed me, but then she spoke. "I'm not inclined to fancy such childish instruments, however…" she trailed off. "Do you believe it would be possible for me to receive one? On my ninth day of birth?"

I was confused for a moment, but then I realized she was talking about her birthday. "Oh, of course," I said quickly, smiling at the fact that she believed my tale. The Super Easy Xylophone line didn't exist, obviously, but I figured I could get George to work something out for me. "Come on, Rosie, let's go eat dinner," I said, gesturing downstairs. "Your Mother and Hugo are waiting."

She beamed and took my hand. "You know, I think I will join you. Perhaps the Sheppard's Pie won't be so atrocious after all."

We walked out of the room and down to dinner, but before we sat down at the table, I tossed the book in the trash can, smiling widely as I heard it clunk all the way to the bottom.

It's where it belonged, after all.

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**a/n.** Tell me what you think? Everyone who reviews gets their very own Super Easy Xylophone(:  
xoxo, -Sianatra


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